The Usual
by space77
Summary: Curiosity entertains the server OR It’s never a bad night for pie… even after a trip to the ER. April Booth Express Challenge


**Timeline/Spoilers:** Killer in the Concrete (mainly the closing scene)

**A/N:** My entry for the **April Booth Express Challenge**. Just a little something that popped into my head when Willi issued this challenge - _Write from the point of view of someone other than the main characters._ Thanks to **TemperTemper** for the quick beta! And **Willi** for the Challenge! Check out **The Anti-Boneyard** ( link in my profile)! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Anything you recognize is not mine!

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Most times, the night shift is my gig. Sometimes, I trade off with one of the other girls, if I want a night out with friends. But today was a rarity - Jenna on days has a sick kid - and I pulled a double. Sometimes happens in the 24-hour diner business. Not always conducive to a social life, but the money's good.

A pretty typical diner day turned into a pretty typical diner night. Dinner crowd tips were a little better than usual, putting a spring in my step for a couple of hours. But now things are pretty slow and you can only wipe down the counter so many times until you are wishing for a distraction of epic proportions. Just to stay awake.

The tinkling of the bell at the door draws my ear and my eyes come to rest on a couple of my favorite regulars.

I've been a waitress half my life, 6 years at this Royal Diner, and you come to know a few things about reading people in that time. A good server can refill your coffee or bring you a new soda without you even noticing, much less causing a break in your conversation.

Over the last year and a half, I've come to know that she's a scientist of some sort, newly vegetarian and almost always drinks coffee, black. She's a bit eccentric, has a wardrobe I would die to be young enough to pull off, and prefers to get her own check and hold her own door.

He's law enforcement - no secret there. Pretty sure he's FBI. Also a bit of a flirt. And cocky. According to his belt. All with a smile that, even at my age, moistens my panties. TMI? Sorry.

Tonight he has a new accoutrement. A shiny set of metal crutches and a bum leg. The right one, it looks like.

I spring to action, grabbing two lists of our current specials and making my way to their usual table. "Evenin'," I say, offering the menus.

He holds up a hand, flashes that smile (_dammit, there goes another pair_) and just says, "The usual for me, Pam."

Glancing her way, she nods and I know it's the same for her as well.

"Okay folks, two coffees and a cherry pie, comin' right up."

But before I move away, I turn back to him. "You okay, sugar?"

"I've had better days." Then he looks dead into her eyes and smiles. "But yeah, I'm good."

I had seen the lady scientist in here earlier in the day. Even in the lunch rush, I could tell that she was stressed – and I wasn't even working the counter. Not eating, nursing her cup of coffee. Should have known it had something to do with him.

They don't seem to be saying much tonight, I notice as I'm slicing the pie. Usually, they are very animated – chatting nearly non-stop. But tonight seems different somehow – besides the fact that he looks like someone used him as a punching bag.

I place two cups and saucers, the slice of pie, and two forks on my tray, and with the carafe in my other hand, make my way back to their table.

He is still watching her as I place the pie between them and arrange the cups to fill them. How can she stand it? That intensity; he exudes it in waves. I would be constantly aflutter.

I ask if they need anything else then retreat behind the counter – busying myself with salt shakers and silverware – trying desperately to appear not to be watching them. I needn't bother though, they seem to only have eyes for each other.

Just as I am settling in to observe, it seems the whole city comes alive and several more customers arrive. I got so swept up then in orders for pancakes (you'd be surprised how many people eat them this late at night) and pie, that other than the occasional coffee refill and clearing their empty pie plate, all I was able to get was a brief glimpse of the couple as I passed by their table.

As I served the man just down from them, I saw a shimmer as she pulled something out of her purse and laid it on the table in front of him. A glass figurine?

My curiosity was peaked.

From the man I am serving, "Oh, Miss? You forgot my salad." Duty calls. _Focus, Pam. On your job, not your eavesdropping._

As I walk by their table on my way to the kitchen, I see him holding and twisting a glass dolphin in his hand. Curiouser and curiouser.

I'm serving the salad, newly resolved to focus my attentions where I'm getting paid to, and then it happens.

I hear them singing.

And when I look that way, they are smiling and laughing, gazing eyes sparkling and just really not caring two shakes if the whole place is watching them.

I can't help but smile and sigh.

And then move on to bus the next table.

I shake my head as I walk past them and see him lean across the table into her personal space.

Those two. Anything but the usual.

_FIN._

_Thanks for reading!_


End file.
